


His Prince

by southernrefugee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 08:47:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southernrefugee/pseuds/southernrefugee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something I wrote for an ask on my Jojen character blog. Prompt: Bran Stark is dead.  This hurt to write</p><p> </p><p>Jojen looked up, eyes wide with surprise, his face a mask of horror. <em>No. That can’t be.</em> The greenseer tried to refuse to believe, to deny it in his own head, but he knew it was true. His dreams, the ache he felt in his heart, it was true. He knew his prince was gone. He forced his eyelids together, tears leaking onto his cheeks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Prince

"Bran Stark is dead" 

Jojen looked up, eyes wide with surprise, his face a mask of horror. _No. That can’t be._ The greenseer tried to refuse to believe, to deny it in his own head, but he knew it was true. His dreams, the ache he felt in his heart, it was true. He knew his prince was gone. He forced his eyelids together, tears leaking onto his cheeks. The young lord tried, failed to hold back a sob and quickly stood. He fled from the room, vision blurry from tears.

 _Bran gone._ He would never see his king, his friend, his prince again. The boy who had been his student, and the man who was his lover, _gone_?! His heart, torn to shreds, hammered in his chest as he forced himself into a pillow, sobs coming freely now.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. _He_ was to go first, he was supposed to die in service for his king. His dreams had told him such. _No. He is still with me. This cannot be true._

But it was. And Jojen knew it.

What was he now? A Hand with no king. A teacher without a student. A man without a heart, just a hole where before there was love. What was his purpose? How was he supposed to go on? The Hand knew what he had to do.

Meera would understand, he was certain. Beyond that, he didn't care. Memories of Bran filled his mind as he climbed the steps in Winterfell's recently-added Tower of the Hand. A sad smile touched his face as he passed the bridge to the Royal Chambers, positioned close to his bedroom as well as Bran's. _Bran is gone._ They had told them it was to allow emergency or late-night advice, but the truth was so they could spend the night in each other's arms. _I will never feel him in my arms again._ He started up again, climbing the last bit of steps to the roof.

A memory struck him, of sitting with his husband-in-all-but-name on this same roof when they had first built the tower. They had watched the sun set, and Jojen had carried the King downstairs, smothering him in kisses. Tears trickled down his face, past upturned corners of a sad smile.

He looked over the edge, knowing that Bran had first been crippled from falling off a tower very much like this, and just a few hundred feet away. But this was taller. Jojen stood at the edge, Bran's face filling his mind. He let himself fall forward.

_Oh, my sweet, sweet prince…._


End file.
